


When You See

by HauntingMelody



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canabalism, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal is Hannibal, Hannibal is a Cannibal, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied Murder, Implied Violence, M/M, POV Will Graham, Realizations, Will Graham Knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-10-24 12:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10741302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HauntingMelody/pseuds/HauntingMelody
Summary: Will decides to cancel his appointment with Hannibal after a long day, things do not go as planned. Will decides it's ok.Set sometime in season one after they've known each other a while, but before Will starts to get seriously sick.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Hannibal or any of it's characters.  
> Please don't sue me.

It was a normal day. _Had_ been a normal day.

               Will had gone to a crime scene, _seen_ more than he’d wanted to, and left knowing that it would all stick with him long after it was relevant anymore.

               Jack had been gruff, per usual, demanding and angry and everything a man who hunts killers for a living was expected to be. Will had seen it though. The extra bit of tightness around his eyes, the hounded weariness in his step.

               Bella’s condition had gotten worse.

               Will had looked away at the time. Selfish… Selfish, so _selfish_. Preserving his own mentality at the cost of someone else’s. Someone who he used to call friend.

_‘ **Why feel bad? He only ever talks to you if he wants to use you now.** ’_ His mind whispered to him, it’s voice strangely similar to his therapist’s. _‘ **Why should you care about him if he doesn’t care about you?** ’_

               Will’s expression had soured, Jack giving him a suspicious look before the profiler stepped out of his line of sight. He silenced that voice, seeing the point it had but pushing past that point, trying to salvage what shred of humanity he had left.

               _‘I should care.’_ He thought to himself, to that voice, silently. _‘Care because at one point, he did too. I should care because he’s under immense amounts of stress with his wife and he doesn’t mean it. He’ll get better, treat me better. Snapping at him won’t help anything.’_

_‘ **Do you really think it’ll go away?** ’ _The voice whispered to him, making Will pause in his step. _‘ **You know this behavior of his started long before his wife grew ill. Do you really think it’ll stop if she gets better?** ’_

               Will shook his head, not knowing how to answer the voice, answer him _self_. It stayed silent, knowing that the right string had been plucked and its job done. Done with his job at the crime scene, Will left. Fled almost, though he’d never admit it. The fact that he purposely avoided Jack while leaving had nothing to do with what the voice had said. At least, that was what he told himself.

               His next destination, after a long drive filled with dark thoughts, brought him to a grocery store. He was low on food and alcohol. He didn’t doubt Hannibal would make a surprise visit sooner or later, as he usually did, and really didn’t want another lecture from Lecter on feeding himself. A wry smile curled his lips at the thought. He slipped into the pet isle as well, remembering how Buster had gotten into the last of his dogfood that morning. Usually, he didn’t put it off that long, but Jack had been running him so ragged lately… Will shook his head with a frown, fighting off the line of thought from earlier. Arriving at the checkout line with his small collection of items, Will made the mistake of looking up.

               Hazel eyes, circled by the shadowed bruising of sleepless nights and haunted with dark thoughts their owner would never give voice to, met his own stormy blue. Will froze, mind providing him with her life story as he tried desperately to look away.

               Unhappy. Single after a long divorce battle and in debt after her now ex-wife had taken everything. A child to be taken care of, laying in its carrier in the cart and finally, _finally_ asleep. Her child, biological and all her responsibility. Her ex-wife, having begged out of the responsibility due to no biological relation, leaving her with too many bills to pay and not enough money to pay them with. She was lonely, sad, suffering sleepless nights, and most likely felt as if she were falling in a pit with no bottom.

               Will had blinked hard when the woman turned away, coming back to himself and recovering from the information dump his imagination had given him over the five seconds of eye contact.

               He dearly wished he could turn off his perception sometimes. Moving on, Will carefully kept his eyes down They stayed trained on his hands or shoes as he checked out and made his way to the safety of his car. Still though, the eyes he felt on him, most likely drawn to his tight expression and clear distress, scared him. So many people unaware that just by looking at them, by them _letting_ him, he could know them entirely.

               He had known that woman was contemplating suicide.

               Will sped quickly away from the store, foot never letting off the gas until he was safely back at his quiet home. He moved on auto pilot after that, feeding his dogs, putting away his groceries and settling himself in his recliner with two fingers of whisky.  His bones ached with all he held in, every word he didn’t say and every act he didn’t commit. Sometimes he felt as if they would break his ribs with how many he kept trapped.

               Will really didn’t want to go out in public again.

               A tired eye drifted over to the phone, teeth chewing as if to eat his bottom lip before he pulled it towards himself. He dialed the number, relief washing through him to calm his inner storm when a kind yet professional voice mail picked up. He was deeply grateful it hadn’t been the phone’s owner.

               “This is the voicemail of the office of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, if this is an emergency I urge you to contact the authorities immediately. If not, I am deeply sorry I missed your call. If you would leave your name, number, and a short message, I will get back to you as soon as possible. Have a wonderful day.”

               Will waited for the tone, lip still held between his teeth as he fisted his pants leg in his free hand.

               “I-it’s Will.” He stuttered, blood rushing to his cheeks at the stumble. “I can’t make it today Hannibal, I’ll see you next week.” Will hurried through before quickly hanging up and setting the phone away from him as if scared of it. He stared at it for a minute. It did not ring.

               Letting out the gust of air he’d been holding, Will shook his head at himself, a wry chuckle leaving him before cutting off abruptly as he placed a hand to cover his eyes. He really needed to pull himself together. He took a sip of his whisky, taking another when the first made him feel more stable. Will got up and brought the bottle over to himself when the glass finished and continued sipping. Pausing his alcoholism when a pit-bull he’d named Vinnie came dancing up to him, Will let his dogs out and got into more comfortable clothing. Now dressed in sweatpants and a thin tee, he turned to survey the room. Winston was the only dog that had stayed with him, doing his business quickly and slipping back inside before Will had shut the door. The mutt curled up in the corner of the room near the fire place as Will sat back down to continue with the bottle.

               He woke to a wet nose brushing his hand hours later, followed by a quiet woof from outside and a similarly quiet knock on his door. Will let out a deep sigh, dragging a hand over his face as he stumbled to his feet, narrowly avoiding knocking the three quarters full bottle of whisky that was set near his feet. The polite knock sounded again and Will found his brows drawing together as he made his way to the door. Who could that be? Jack wouldn’t be nearly as kind, Beverly had had plans to go out drinking that night, and Alana was out of the state. It was too early for Hannibal to be done with his appointments too.

               “Coming.” Will answered a third knock, voice thick with sleep as he reached the door and opened it.

               “You know I have a twenty-four-hour cancellation policy Will.” The profiler blinked in surprise, craning his head back to glance at a clock. Oh, it was later than he’d thought.

               “U-um.” He croaked, flushing slightly and clearing his throat. “I’ve just had a grueling day today.” He explained, eyes focused on Hannibal’s chin as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, he noticed the bag filled with food containers held in Hannibal’s hand. It wasn’t unusual for the man to bring something. Thin lips curled into a small smile, the doctor recognizing the words as an apology.

               “Then perhaps the best place for our session is here, where you’re comfortable.” He allotted with a small nod. Will’s eyes fell to his feet as he stepped out of Hannibal’s way, the man entering his house silently and moving towards the kitchen. Will shut the door and followed, keeping the dogs outside so they wouldn’t bother them. None of them seemed keen on coming inside quite yet anyways and Winston would be fine where he was. The mutt was rather well behaved for a stray.

               Hannibal was already behind his counter and had some ingredients spread out from the containers in the bag he’d brought. Some of the food Will recognized as what he’d bought that evening while the rest came from the cook’s own stock. It seemed Hannibal already had something in mind by the way he was moving and how sure he seemed about the ingredients he was pulling out. It really wasn’t unusual for the doctor to take over his kitchen like this, Will would have been more surprised if he didn’t to be honest. The profiler was often treated to meals whenever Hannibal visited, despite his protests. Will had learned to just stop protesting, it wasn’t like he’d be listened to anyways. Besides, Hannibal enjoyed it.

               “When was the last time you ate Will.” Hannibal asked quietly, pulling a container of meat in front of him and creating some breading in another. Will bit his lip in answer, feeling unimpressed maroon eyes on him before they flicked back to their task. “What is the use of the food if one does not eat it, dear Will?” Hannibal asked with a breath of air Will knew to be his version of a sigh.

               “I’ve been a little busy lately, Hannibal.” Will mumbled, focusing on the doctor’s hands as he worked. Long fingers like those of a pianist flipped the meat in the breading before transferring it to a pan over a lit burner. The scent of cooking meat had Will’s mouth watering already and the profiler saw a small twitch at the corner of Hannibal’s lips.

               “No doubt, but that is no reason to punish one’s body. You have even more reason to eat because you’re busy, you need the energy.” Hannibal admonished. Will bowed his head, properly shamed for ignoring his own health, but continued to watch the cook work. Both were silent for a few moments, long enough for the meat to be well on its way to being done, and long enough for Hannibal to pull a bottle of wine from the bag he’d brought. Will was offered the first glass and he held up a hand, declining.

               “Thank you but I’ve already had some Whisky tonight, I don’t need a headache in the morning.” He explained, voice tight as he admitted to indulging in his alcoholism. Hannibal inclined his head and took a sip from the glass himself.

               “Any particular reason you’ve already had so much?” Came the quiet question, innocent and friendly with its tone. Will’s lips twisted into a grimace. He should have seen that one coming.

               “Just a very long day.” He explained, swiping a carrot from the cutting board Hannibal was using. He ignored the pointed look thrown his way as he crunched on it.

               “What made it that way?” Hannibal asked after a pause, moving the cutting board out of Will’s reach before he continued with his chopping. Will pursed his lips.

               “A body, a crime scene, death.” He spoke, holding himself back from spitting the words. “The usual.” It wasn’t Hannibal’s fault he saw too much, remembered too much. Will frowned, a spark of anger boiling in him.

               “Jack?” The doctor asked softly, eyes trained on his task as he pretended he hadn’t hit the nail on the head. Will’s fist clenched to whiten his knuckles for a second before releasing the pressure.

               “Jack.” He confirmed, though his mind pulled up the image of the woman from the grocery store. He pushed the thought away, she wasn’t his real problem.

               “Uncle Jack then.” Hannibal ducked his head in a nonchalant nod. “Anything specific?”

               Will’s lips formed a hard line, fist clenched and jaw set stubbornly. He shot a pointed look at Hannibal’s left ear and kept silent. Hannibal smiled softly.

               “Another time then.”

               Both men stayed silent as Hannibal prepared supper, Will realizing the extent of his hunger the closer the food got to being done. Anger faded from the profiler as time ticked by, the man becoming more concerned with the growling of his stomach than the thoughts that had plagued him earlier. He got up to set his small table when Hannibal stated turning off burners and cleaning up his mess, as little of it as there was. They both settled down once the food was on the table, Will accepting this time, a half glass of wine with his meal. The whisky wasn’t affecting him as badly anymore, he could handle the wine. It would be rude not to take it when he knew the cook had brought it to pair with this meal specifically.

               Hannibal waited for him to take the first bite, as he always did. Eager to see Will’s reaction to his meal, and grinning widely when Will shut his eyes for a moment to properly appreciate the dish. It wasn’t as fancy as what Hannibal usually made, but it was no less delicious. Will was starting to believe that the man couldn’t make anything that tasted bad.

               “It’s perfect.” Will said, noting how the simplicity of the meal helped him relax after the complications of his day. He rewarded the cook with a small smile. “Thank you, Hannibal.”

               The doctor’s own lips curved then, pleasure clearly the emotion displayed on sharp features, but there was a certain level of smugness there too. Those emotions only grew as Hannibal cut in to his own bit of meat, and Will froze.

               It was the entirety of the day that had lead up to this moment. It was here that his day could no longer be called normal. Realization had suddenly hit him like a freight train, his perception going into hyperdrive as it had all day. It was then that he clearly saw who he was sitting with. Will hardly remembered to swallow his food.

               His realization had come to him as simply and easily as he had found Hobbes. It was nothing particular that he’d picked out. Had he not known his own mind and how much truth it saw, Will would have doubted and dismissed the thought, but he did know though. He knew that he was hardly wrong, and knew that, in this case, he was dead right. Will couldn’t even pick out exactly what had showed him the truth, but it had something to do with the smug satisfaction in Hannibal’s eyes when he cut into his dish. When he cut into his meat. Will realized then wasn’t pork, though Hannibal saw no difference between the two meats. To him they were both pigs. Livestock.

               Hannibal held no remorse, felt no grief over what he’d done. It did not haunt him in the night like Will’s own visions of terror did. He was guilt free, proud of what he’d done in fact. Will’s hand slid over to his knife as Hannibal’s eyes flicked up to meet his own. The smile dropped from the cannibal’s features as he read Will’s.

               “Ah.” Hannibal stated tonelessly, sitting up straight as his eyes tightened, looking Will over with predatory intent. “You’ve seen, haven’t you?” He asked, voice quiet as he grew still, tense for attack.

               Will swallowed roughly, body screaming at him: _Danger! Danger!_ His fingers grasped the knife tightly as his own body tensed to fight. He met Hannibal’s eyes, his own widening as he watched the mask slip away from his friend’s face. He could see all of him now, Hannibal wasn’t hiding anymore.

               Will saw darkness, killing intent, calculation. Still, there was no remorse for what he’d done. What he’d done so many times. Done so well and _displayed_ for all to see. He saw how Hannibal viewed others, how he saw them no better than the meat he claimed them to be. The rude, the _pigs_. He saw anger in a young boy, rage and bloodlust spawned by the same from another. Deaths, so many deaths, but not all by his hands, not the firsts. They were his trigger, his reason, his design.

                Will knew now how the ripper ripped, how Hannibal ripped. He saw the artist behind the art created in the aftermath. Will saw exactly who Hannibal really was. Most of all though, Will saw his ripper’s reluctance to do the same to him.

               Hannibal didn’t want to kill Will. The killer, his friend, saw him as the same: A friend. Hannibal saw him as an equal and did not want to see him go, wanted to keep him. He was possessive in his feelings towards Will. Deep inside the monster sitting across from him, Will saw something twisted, and fragile, and beautiful in its ferocity. Something that could only be love. Will found himself breathless as he came back to his own mind, found himself still staring into tense maroon. A shudder ran through him.

               “Yes.” Will answered breathily, shaken by the revelations. “Yes Hannibal, I do see.” He nearly whispered, and moved his hand away from the knife. Hannibal tracked his every movement, he barely seemed to be breathing.

               “I see a friend.” Will stated, voice even and firm with this proclamation before he brought a bite of his meal, the meat Hannibal had brought him, to his lips. Hannibal’s eyes went wide, and Will witnessed surprise cross the usually composed features for the first time as he bit down on the bounty.

               Will couldn’t hate Hannibal. He understood. He saw pieces of himself in Hannibal as there were no doubt pieces of Hannibal in himself. They were the same, it had just taken Will forever to see it. He’d been too busy denying himself. Had denied that he woke up from his nightmares panting with exhilaration, panting with fear not of what he’d done in the dream, but how he’d enjoyed it. Will was just as much of a killer as Hannibal was, he just hadn’t killed anyone yet. His simple human mind had been clinging too desperately to the ideals of his friends in an effort to fit in, that he hadn’t committed the act he so desired. Hobbes had helped him see that he did enjoy it, no matter how he tried to ignore the urge. What friends was he trying to impress anymore though?

               Jack could not be considered his friend, not with how he treated him. How he used him and yelled at him, he was nothing more than a tool to that man! Jack didn’t care if he broke, just wanted all he could get from him before that happened. Alana was no better, forcing her ideals on him, convincing him he was sick and useless while trying to pry into his mind to _fix_ what she saw as broken. She was only attracted to him because she didn’t see him as whole, as human. To her he was just a project and a case study. He’d been stupid not to see that until now. Beyond them, it pained Will to realize that Beverly was the only other friend he could think of. She was kind, supported him, and didn’t judge him for his flaws. Will adored her as a friend, but she wasn’t Hannibal.

               Hannibal saw him for who he was, saw him entirely and _liked_ what he saw. He didn’t view him as a tool. Didn’t even see him as broken or as something to be fixed. Hannibal saw him as _beautiful_ and in perfect, twisted, working order. He was _fascinated_ by him and intrigued in ways he most likely had not been in a long while. He saw Will as an equal, a comrade in arms, and perhaps something more if only Will would see him back.

               Will saw Hannibal now, understood that Hannibal saw him, and the profiler found that he was ok with that.

               Will relaxed as he continued eating, flashing a small smile at killer sitting across with him. He almost laughed when he saw Hannibal was still frozen in place, staring at him with open surprise, curiosity, and wonder.

               “Eat.” The mongoose commanded softly, smile never leaving his lips as he took another bite. “Your food will grow cold.”

               Hannibal smiled then, razor sharp and without a mask hiding it, before joining Will in finishing his meal.

               “Dear Will, I’m so glad you’ve seen me.” Hannibal stated softly, warmth and wonder coloring his tone.


	2. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What comes after Will's revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this written for so long without posting that I'm rather ashamed of myself.  
> Sorry?

The feather touch of a finger, the slide of skin on his neck coming to rest at the point of his chin. Light pressure, coaxing up so maroon meets stormy gray.  
“How far does this go?” Comes the quiet rumble of accented words. A supper finished, left as is for now but soon to be put away.  
“How far do you think Hannibal? I see you.” A snarky smile with fondness in the crinkle around the eyes.  
“Given a grain of sand a man does not expect a desert, dear Will.” Soft, patient. “When expected to live with what the grain might mean, he would have questions, doubts.” Increased pressure against skin, white ringing the touch before the digits slip away.  
“You’re the therapist, what do you think?” A devious grin. The quiet air of a sigh. Hannibal steps away and begins cleaning up after their meal.  
“I think I know far less about you than I thought, to not realize you would figure me out.”  
“Until five minutes ago, I thought I knew you. Yet I trust you with my life, knowing you’re a killer. I gaze into murky waters and trust them to be deep. We’re taking the same dive, Hannibal.” The profiler pinned his friend with a provoking gaze, haughtiness in the tilt of his chin. “Would you balk and let me hit the rocks? Your trust in me should run as deep as mine for you or this analogy will have no happy ending.”  
Hannibal pursed his lips, attempting to look serious. Will let a smug smile curve his lips, seeing the smirk he was holding back.  
“I once killed a woman by dropping her from the top tower of a tourist attraction. I wanted to see how she’d land.” His eyes appeared backlit for a moment. “The way her hair spread about her was glorious, dyed as it was with her blood. What makes you believe I would not do the same to you?” The killer stared down at his perspective friend, jaw set as he waited for a response. Will chuckled tiredly, the booze he’d ingested pulling at his eyelids even as he kept his gaze on Hannibal.  
“You’ve already dropped Rapunzel from her tower though, to repeat the action would be boring to you. You’ve done it once before and know how it will end. You’re easily bored, so why do it again?” At the shutdown to his threat, the doctor pulled a small face. The near pouting set of Hannibal’s lips only made Will laugh as the killer continued clearing the table. Will started getting up to help, but paused when Hannibal waved him to sit again with a pointed look.  
“No, sit and stay William. I would like you focused for the questions I’m about to ask you. With the alcohol you’ve ingested I doubt your ability to do two tasks at once.” Will sat again obligingly, but stuck his tongue out at the cannibal before resettling himself. Hannibal simply exhaled sharply, expression clearly stating he was rolling his eyes despite the fact he did no such thing. That would have been rude.  
“What all questions do you have for me? I’d assumed you knew everything about me already, otherwise what were all those sessions for?” Will teased, leaning back and regarding the doctor lazily. Hannibal shook his head, rinsing the plates before setting them beside the sink to be cleaned later. Once he was asleep the profiler assumed. For now, Hannibal was too enthralled with the power he had over him to let it go to waste for something so simple as cleanliness. Will ran a hand over his face, attempting to hide how happy it made him that Hannibal was amazed by someone so simple as him.  
“I had assumed the same, my dear Will. Yet as we’ve both discovered, that isn’t necessarily true, now is it?” Hannibal gave him a pointed look, a hit of a smile dancing at the corners of his lips. Will returned it in full, completely relaxed in the presence of his ripper.  
Strange thought, he pondered to himself for a second, ‘his ripper.’ Gave him a tingle of warmth where his heart should be. Brushing it aside Will focused on Hannibal again, sensing some form of agitation from the man at being ignored.  
He locked eyes with Hannibal and the man moved to speak once more, reassured he had Will’s attention. Will couldn’t help himself as he read Hannibal. It was the twitch to the corner of his left eye, the seriousness that shaped his features. Humor colored Will’s tone as he spoke up, realizing what his friend was going to ask.  
“How’d I know?” Will interrupted, earning a small glare even as Hannibal nodded sharply in confirmation. The profiler’s eyes danced with amusement at messing with the killer. He stretched slightly, one arm leaned on the table while the other sat idly in his lap. His back arched and he let out a deep sigh, lazy smile settled comfortably on his lips. He moved to start when a cold nose touched his hand, gray eyes drifting down to meet deep brown as Winston begged for a pet. He obliged, scratching the pooch behind the ears as his tail went crazy, doing Will’s sweeping job for him with its energy. A small shifting out of his peripheral made him glance up, noting how Hannibal seemed to be almost twitching with impatience for Will to continue. The tipsy man smiled slightly, not looking directly at Hannibal. The doctor too polite to so much as clear his throat. The lazy smile sprawled wider across his lips as he looked Hannibal up and down, noting the continued small annoyed eye twitch with a sense of amusement.  
“You’re a smug bastard, you know that Hannibal?” Will asked easily, waiting with mischievous joy building in his chest like an inflating balloon as he watched his killer’s face go blank.  
“That was rather rude, William. I’d recommend you avoid such atrocities in my presence.” The man stated coldly, predatory eyes engulfing Will whole as he met that russet gaze. Even in the face of danger, Will smiled.  
“Please, Hannibal.” He started, voice curling fondly around the man’s name without Will being aware of it. “We’ve already both agreed I’m no Rapunzel.” The therapist stayed still for a second before assenting, head tilting oh so slightly forward in a small nod before he set aside the last of the dishes. He straightened his clothing as if to gather himself before motioning for Will to follow him to the sitting room. The profiler got up, stumbling slightly before a strong arm caught his waist, pulling him against a solid mass. Slightly hazy gray eyes traveled up a trim form to meet calculating maroon, that same lazy smile curving Will’s lips as he relaxed in the man’s hold. Already narrowed eyes narrowed further, flitting around Will’s face as if searching for something. The profiler simply held still, soaking up Hannibal’s heat as he let him do as he wished.  
Cautious fingers fluttered over his cheek, the back of the digits brushing over Will’s cheekbone softly as if Hannibal feared breaking him. Will simply leaned into it, enjoying the contact and how his utter trust effected Hannibal. The man truly had expected horrible things from Will in the event of him finding out. The brunette reveled in breaking that idea of himself in Hannibal’s mind. That look that lit his eyes when he discovered something new about Will, the amazement and wonder… It was beautifully thrilling.  
The touch to his cheek lingered for a moment longer before Hannibal pulled away, making sure Will was balanced before fully stepping away and towards the living room again. Will didn’t hold back his pout at the loss of heat, but followed regardless.  
“Damsels and towers aside, I still wish to know the answer to the question you didn’t let me ask.” Hannibal stated, confusing Will before he re-caught up to their conversation.  
His mind felt light, thoughts drifting across its surface like leaves on a pond. He skirted around Winston as he sat in the chair he’d slept in before, Hannibal taking the seat next to it after moving the ottoman out of the way. The man perched like a bird, elbows resting on knees as he folded his hands together. Will amused himself with wondering if it because of the interesting conversation or desire to get as little dog hair on his suit as possible. He wagered the latter, but didn’t say anything. The profiler sighed, moving the whiskey bottle aside so he didn’t accidentally knock it over.  
“I was serious with what I said before Hannibal.” Will started, eyes on his hand as he moved the bottle before drifting back up to meet attentive maroon for half a second before skittering away again. “You’re smug about your kills, and, to a certain degree, that shows when you’re with people you trust.” Will folded his hands, adopting Hannibal’s posture as he met his eyes to make a point. “It came through your person suit because you trust me, and because I’m me.” He paused, making sure Hannibal was following. “I saw it and pieced together the puzzle.” He fell silent then, letting Hannibal take it in and draw his own conclusions. Maroon dropped from gray as the killer thought.  
He was slow to speak, eyes trained on his own clasped hands as he sorted through Will’s words.  
“It’s not obvious then.”  
Will shook his head.  
“The complete opposite in fact, impossible to see without my talents and knowledge of you. Or your trust in me.” Hannibal stayed silent, still staring at his hands in thought, but Will picked up on some worry creasing his brow. He sighed softly, making Hannibal glance up at him in question. Will gave him a gentle smile. “You could argue that the only reason I saw was because I understand.” He prompted softly with a raised brow and a secretive grin. Hannibal’s response was immediate, eyes widening and that same, wondrous look shining through.  
“What, amongst all my horrible acts, could I have possibly have done to earn you?” Hannibal stated reverently, amazement coloring his voice as a long-fingered hand bridged the distance between them to again cup Will’s cheek. The brunette leaned into it, slightly loopy smile touching his lips.  
“Must have been pretty horrible to have gotten stuck with me. And that’s saying something considering your hobby and view on what’s bad and what isn’t.” Will grinned. Hannibal’s small smile in return was breathtaking.  
“Quite the opposite in fact, it must have been saintly for such an angel to grace me with its company.” Hannibal’s voice was reverent when he said this, eyes sincere and expression soft. There was a beat of silence between them before Will snorted, red like roses dusting his cheeks as his eyes shied away from Hannibal’s.  
“Oh, stop it, I’m no angel. Not with what goes on in my head.” Will abolished, unused to such praise. Hannibal simply smiled, soft and innocent and pure. Everything he shouldn’t be, but impossibly was. Only for Will though, only ever with Will.  
“Even death has its angel dear Will, and I do believe I will claim this angel as mine.” The profiler blushed crimson as Hannibal leaned in to brush his nose along his jawline, inhaling deeply as he went as if trying to memorize his sent. Will wanted to offer up some token protest, but found no words touching his tongue. He didn’t dislike the praise, but was simply so unused to it he felt the need to reject it. He held his silence though, cheeks flaming as Hannibal nuzzled him.  
It felt wonderful to the touch starved man, light tremors running through him as he sighed contently. Hannibal paused to stare at Will, waiting patiently for the shy man to return the gaze. Will blinked up at him after a moment, shifting slightly in his embarrassment. The dark warmth he found in those maroon eyes sent a chill down his spine. It was an all-consuming feeling, possessive and dark and glorious. Will found he couldn’t get enough of it, lids lowering to half-mast as he stared back into the abyss.  
It was a small movement; one Will wasn’t sure if Hannibal started or he did that brought their lips together. Smooth skin against Will’s chapped, a spark of electricity that startled Will chasing after it. Pianist’s fingers drifted back from their hold on his chin, twisting in the chocolate curls at his nape and tilting his head slightly to the side. There was light movement, the fanning of warm breath against his lips and the gentle nip of teeth, the bump of a nose against his, then Hannibal drew back. Will’s eyes were pools of warmth, shuttered and hazed and all for Hannibal. Sun heated pools that sparkled with light. He felt light, pleasantly numb and filled with a warmth that made him feel like he was floating.  
Hannibal chuckled softly, gently bumping Will’s nose with his own once more before he shifted his hold and stroked his cheekbone with a thumb, simply staring at his dazed mongoose.  
“I do believe I should get going.” Hannibal started quietly, grin curving thin lips at the toneless hum that resonated from Will, the man’s eyes still unfocused. The killer simply puffed out a sigh before withdrawing his hand from Will’s hair and standing.  
Hannibal’s departure from him finally seemed to slightly shake the man from his state of distraction, Will looking slightly put out at the loss of touch. Hannibal held a hand out for him to take, Will accepting after staring at it for a second.  
“You’re leaving?” The brunette asked softly, dazedly, disappointment coloring his tone. Like a puppy that just didn’t understand why he had to sit and stay. Hannibal pressed his lips together to avoid another smile as he nodded.  
“We are both busy in the morning, we will be needed again for the current case.” Hannibal stated simply, relishing the pout that pushed Will’s bottom lip out. “It is also time you went to bed. Your night has been long and you’ve a touch too much drink in you, I think.” Will wrinkled his nose at that, but didn’t fight when Hannibal led him to his bed in the corner. The doctor pursed his lips when Will wasn’t looking, wholly disapproving of the dirty thing his profiler called a bed. He found himself hoping for multiple reasons that Will would be staying with him more often.  
Once the man was settled in, nightclothes already on from when Hannibal had woken him earlier, the killer moved to leave. He paused though at the light grip at his sleeve, turning to see will pouting at him once more. A gentle tug to the material and a coaxing gesture had Hannibal leaning down, it was seemingly the doctor’s turn to be silently amazed at what effects Will’s touch had on him. He felt like he’d do anything asked of him when the profiler brushed his cheek with the backs of warm fingers. Will smiled and Hannibal returned it, chest warming at the sight of the completely trusting man laid out before him.  
“Goodnight dear Will, my mongoose.” Hannibal spoke softly.  
“G’night Hannibal… My ripper.” Will mumbled in response, already drifting off.  
He missed the heated look Hannibal gave him then, taking in his unconscious form with the thin tee riding up and his body sprawled out so vulnerably. Hannibal took a deep breath then, taking in the scent of the house and everything Will. Cementing the image in his mind palace, hung with care in the master bedroom of Will’s wing, Hannibal stared down at his mongoose fondly.  
“What you do to me without knowing it.” The cannibal murmured quietly, taking one last long look at Will before turning to exit the house. He let the dogs in on his way out and started planning their future together on the way home.  
“And to think, I never liked being called the ripper before now.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where these ideas come from, but I can tell you this whole thing stemmed from the words "When you see." Drifting through my mind.  
> I don't know either, don't look at me. XP  
> I hope you liked it, sorry if I get too detailed, I do that a lot.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome, I like knowing what you guys think of my writing since you're the only ones that ever see it. There is always room for improvement. I definitely know I need help with the punctuation. :/  
> Either way, Kudos, Comments, love from me to you.
> 
> Have a great time of your day!  
> Raven~


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